


Assassins

by areyoukiddingme



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/M, Rivalry, Russian Roulette, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 13:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12060303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoukiddingme/pseuds/areyoukiddingme
Summary: “Cop?” She asked shortly.He shook his head.She nodded and turned back to her rifle. He tipped his head in confusion. He’d never come across someone who wasn’t scared of him at first sight, let alone someone who refused to let up his spot.“This is my job.” He spoke flatly, letting his bag fall to the floor with a thud.“And it appears to be mine.”~Zsasz never thought he'd get turned on by another assassin. Let alone a woman in with the mob.





	Assassins

Zsasz shouldered his way up the staircase, lugging a heavy duffel bag, his eyes focused on the door above him. When he opened it a blast of cool air struck him.

He was standing on the roof of a building in order to fulfil his latest contract, which is why he startled back when he saw someone was already set up in the exact place that he had planned to take the shot. He was so dumbstruck he merely stood there, his eyes wide and shoulders tense. They hadn’t noticed him yet, so he allowed himself to study the person in his place.

It was a young woman, barely eighteen leaning against a sniper, her hair pulled back into a strict, scraggly ponytail. Her clothes were grey and practical and she seemed to be taking this very seriously despite the fact that she was so young and had probably never done this before.

He couldn’t very well just turn back so he chewed on his lower lip before clearing his throat.

She flinched, her head jerking back and she fixed him with an icy stare. Her eyes slowly travelled up and down his body, taking in his dark clothing and the suspicious duffel bag.

“Cop?” She asked shortly.

He shook his head.

She nodded and turned back to her rifle. He tipped his head in confusion. He’d never come across someone who wasn’t scared of him at first sight, let alone someone who refused to let up his spot.

“This is my job.” He spoke flatly, letting his bag fall to the floor with a thud.

She barely flinched, only looked away from her sight to fix him with another glare.

“And it appears to be mine.”

“Let up, little girl.” He patronised her, his fingers twitching over his gun. Another two tally marks in one day. But she was being too interesting for him to kill her just yet.

“In your dreams, pal.”

Her bluntness was beginning to amuse him.

“So what do you suggest we do?” He asked her, the barest smirk playing on his lips.

“I take the job, we both get the credit.” She answered, a very mature and well-thought out answer for the bizarre situation.

“Why don’t I take the job instead?” He suggested.

“I got here first, you can’t deny that.” She answered firmly.

“I have more chance of-”

“I know what I’m doing, mister.” She interrupted him, detecting the arrogant nature of his tone that suggested he was better than her.

“Alright.” He shrugged. “Seeing as I’m supposed to be working, do you mind if I stick around?”

She turned around, inspecting his expression before nodding her head towards the small wall running along the length of the roof. He twitched his sleeves, approaching it before sliding down the wall, resting his head against it in a bored manner. His long legs sprawled in front of him and he rested a hand casually on his knee.

“What’s your name then?” He asked.

“You’re distracting me.” She spoke sharply.

His jaw clenched in anger as he stared at the ground, fingers twitching again. She shifted uncomfortably in front of her rifle, her head turning back towards him.

“How long have I got?” She asked.

He looked to his watch lazily.

“Twenty minutes.”

“Perhaps I have a little time for conversation.” She rocked back, stretching her legs out but kept her head angled over the roof. “I suppose you’re not allowed to say who you’re working for?”

“No.” He answered shortly in a way that said she should have known the answer immediately. “It’s a political shot. Anyone in Gotham could have hired us.”

“True.” She nodded her head. “Been in the game long?”

He twitched his sleeve further down, thinking about the tallies marring the length of his arm.

“Fairly long. You?”

“Few years.” She shrugged.

“You must have started young.” He commented, staring at her evenly.

He seemed determined that she was a child and he wasn’t going to see her in any other way. Her eyebrows knitted together angrily and she tensed her shoulders.

“You must have too.” She spoke, her voice tight.

“I suppose.”

A hush fell over the crowd below them and she immediately focused all of her attention over the side of the building. Her jaw clenched and she readied her sniper, finger hovering over the trigger.

He sat up a little, trying to watch the scene below while simultaneously watching her and her technique. For the first time since meeting her he had the inkling that she might actually be competent, what with the furtive sharpness in her eyes and even hands handling the weapon. He watched the barrel follow her target until it reached the perfect position. She checked her sight twice, steadying the gun before sharply pulling the trigger.

The moment she took the shot she dragged herself and her gun out of sight and immediately started packing up. He stood upright, eyeing her up before casually leaning over the side of the building to watch the chaos ensuing below, not caring about her precaution to not be seen. He was impressed to see the politician dead on the floor, security guards dressed in black swarming them as people screamed and clamoured to get away.

“You can handle yourself.” He said over his shoulder.

“Please. Do you really think I wouldn’t back down from the infamous Victor Zsasz if I didn’t know what I was doing?” She spoke firmly, shoving various bits of equipment into her duffel bag.

He tensed, staring at her back with wide eyes. He thought she had no idea who he was or he would be been sure that she’d back down without a second thought. She finished packing her bag and as she turned towards him he hurriedly composed his features, nodding at her sharply. They both shouldered their duffel bags, making their way down the stairwell while listening to the chaos still ensuing on the ground. They shared a glance before she silently shoved open the door to the lower level and they both went their separate ways, intent on seeming inconspicuous among the crowds of horrified citizens and silently wondering about the other.

* * *

Zsasz only had one club that he actually enjoyed going to. Nearly all of the clubs in Gotham were owned by one side or the other and whenever he visited them he had to worry about work or politics or a culmination of the two. This was an independent place and somewhere he could actually relax without having to think about who to be cordial towards or pretend to hate when he didn’t.

He had a drink and was idly sitting at the bar when someone walked in and caught his eye. She had fierce makeup and form-fitting clothes, her hair in loose curls arranged simply around her shoulders. She looked older than before, more in her twenties now rather than late teens but there was no doubt about it; it was the girl from before.

Astonished at the strange coincidence and enraptured at her changed appearance, he simply stared at her. He noticed the large man next to her, chatting loudly with his friends and hand clinging to her waist in the most invasive way possible. The large man was dark haired and tanned, presumably part of the mob from the amount of rings on his fingers and burly men surrounding him.

Zsasz continued his drink but couldn’t stop glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. Eventually, he watched her excuse herself from her group, kissing the grotesque man before sashaying up to the bar, right next to Zsasz.

“I saw you staring.” She spoke under her breath to him after ordering her table’s drinks at the bar.

He kept his gaze fixed on his drink but his mouth twisted into a smirk.

“You look different.” He spoke to his drink. He didn’t want to be seen talking to her; If her partner really was part of the mob, the last thing he wanted was to be seen talking to his girl. That would involve unnecessary deaths and drama.

“You look exactly the same.” She remarked, picking up two of the drinks, taking them back to her table before sidling up beside him again.

“What’s the deal with your partner?” He asked her, rings tapping against his glass.

“Boyfriend.” She answered shortly.

“So you’re whoring yourself out too?”

“He hasn’t paid me. Yet.” Her lips twisted into a smirk as she picked up the remaining glasses.

Then she left his side again and went back to her table, the obnoxious man sitting her beside him roughly while she smiled pleasantly. Zsasz watched her out of the corner of his eye, musing on her situation.

He knew he should have left hours ago, but he found he couldn’t leave her next to that repulsive man. He continued watching, observing as the man got more and more drunk and rowdy. The table finally stood up and as they were leaving Zsasz watched him being far too physical with her, grabbing her arm and shoving her away from him while she glanced around furtively, ensuring that no-one got involved or interfered.

Zsasz watched them leave, his stomach twisting as he stared into his empty drink glass. He mulled over his options, chewing his lip as he tapped the counter before he abruptly stood up, sloping towards the exit.

He stepped out of the warmth of the club, staring up and down the alley. He hesitated on whether to go further down the alley or head towards the road. Then he heard a sick slapping sound, skin on skin followed by a thud and loud voices started coming towards him. He hurried backwards into the alcove of the exit of the club, hiding from sight as the voices passed him and he could see that they belonged to the repulsive man and his cronies. She wasn’t with them though.

As soon as they were out of sight, he stalked down the alley, squinting in the semi-darkness until he came across her, sprawled ungracefully on the ground.

“You okay?” He asked distantly, tipping his head.

“Fuck.” She expressed sharply, her face still buried in the pavement.

She made an attempt to get up, hissing and wincing but aggressively pushing away any help Zsasz tried to give her. On wobbling ankles she finally made it upright, the right side of her face bloodied and gashed, goose bumps rising on her bare arms and legs that were also covered in tiny cuts and bruises. She tried to step but her face screwed up and she shook her head.

“Fuck.” She repeated. “I think I’ve twisted my ankle.”

She gestured for Zsasz to come towards her, which he did, and she used his shoulder to steady herself while she unlaced herself from her shoes. She hooked her fingers through her shoe straps and started walking towards the road, trying to ignore the amount of pain she was in with every step. He merely stared after her, watching her struggle before he lurched forward and started walking beside her down the alley.

“I’m assuming it’s over between you two now.” Zsasz said presumptuously.

Her face broke into a smile that dropped immediately when it pulled at the broken skin of her lip.

“Oh no.” She stared dead ahead, her gaze distant. “He’ll come crawling back tomorrow, begging for forgiveness, which I’ll give. It’s not much longer now.”

They were nearing the road as she said that ominous statement. Zsasz was silenced again, curiosity piqued as he watched her hail a cab using the hand holding her shoes. One pulled up almost immediately and she yanked open the door, glancing at Zsasz before slipping inside.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said, bringing up yet more questions before slamming the door, the cab screeching away within a few seconds.

Zsasz stood on the pavement staring after the cab until it disappeared from sight. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets, lifting his head to the sky before meandering away, thinking about how the girl and her odd situation.

* * *

Zsasz returned to the same club the next day, hoping that that’s what she meant. He ordered a drink, surreptitiously staring at the door. His foresight was rewarded as she saw the girl come in through the double doors, all dressed up but without her date. He noticed she was still hobbling but was trying to hide it as best she could and when she sat beside him he saw she still had the wounds on her face. She had tried to cover it up with makeup but it still showed where the skin had broken and she winced every time she tried to smile.

He reached out to touch her cheek but she pushed him away, staring at the bar as she sat.

“Have you recovered?”

“What do you think?” She glared at him evenly before ordering her own drink.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” He teased her in is usual unamused voice.

“He doesn’t know where I go. I don’t have to be with him all the time.” She responded quickly.

He noted her not answering the question but decided not to bring it up.

“I’m guessing you’re not here for work.”

“No.” She smirked, taking her drink from the barmaid. “I’m surprised you came back.”

“I was hoping you’d be here.” Zsasz spoke surprisingly earnestly. She didn’t seem to know how to respond as she idly sipped her drink, glancing around the room furtively.

“You worried your boyfriend will catch you?”

“No.” She snapped, suddenly focusing all of her attention back on him.

“What are you getting off of him?” He leaned in conspiratorially, curiosity driving him to ask the question.

“You want me to explain my work to you?” She pulled back in her chair, her eyes wide and challenging.

“Yes.” He said shortly, matching her stance whilst daring her to speak.

“Okay.” She set her drink down and looped her arm over the back of her chair. “He’s writing me into his will next week. Then a few days after he just might not wake up.”

“Will? Bit old fashioned.” Zsasz commented and she rolled her eyes.

“But it works. There’s so much shit happening in Gotham, no-one cares about a will or a mobster death.” She shrugged. “I’ve done it twice before. That time I met you on the rooftop, that was the first commission I’d had in months.”

“Why’s that?” Zsasz asked, her talent not matching up to her workload.

“People want assassins like you. Menacing, broody men who wear black and have a gun on them at all times. The only time I get commissions is when I can be more inconspicuous than you.” She gave him a pointed look. “So, I have to make a little extra on the side.”

“That’s shit.” He rolled his nearly-empty glass between his palms.

“I know.”

She drank from her glass again, staring around the club, curiously this time instead of searching for someone.

“When your boyfriend’s gone, will you be free?” He asked out of the blue and she turned sharply towards him.

“Don’t tell me you’re in love, dear?” She gripped his arm playfully.

“No. But I like to think I have a chance.” He muttered, not succumbing to her teasing as he shrugged her off.

“I’m afraid I only have relations with a man if they pay me.” She stated softly, bringing her hand off of him gently.

“I’d have to pay to kiss you?” He turned towards her and she nodded decisively.

“So you do whore yourself out?” He said in a low, disappointed tone.

She reached into her bag and pulled out her phone, checking the time before throwing back the last of her drink.

“Occasionally. But I only do it if the man in question is particularly… charming.” She stood, tracing her hand over his chest as she did so. His tongue darted over his bottom lip suggestively as he inhaled and exhaled heavily.

“I’d better go. I said I’d meet him somewhere.” She said, pre-emptively answering a question he didn’t ask.

She slipped a scrap of paper towards him with a number scrawled across it. He picked it up and held it between his fingers, glancing up at her, amused.

“Do I have to pay to call this number?” He grinned, slipping it into his pocket anyway.

“Not to call me, no.”

She smirked, picking up her bag then making her way towards the door, looking at him before pushing her way outside.

* * *

 

Zsasz was the one who called her, bored with waiting in the middle of a commission. He twisted in the expensive office chair of his future victim, the ringing phone pressed to his ear, his chest tightening as she picked up.

“Hello?” Her lilting voice came through the receiver as she obviously didn’t know who was calling.

He couldn’t help but smile at her voice and left her hanging for so long she repeated herself.

“Hello.” He greeted her eventually.

“Zsasz.” She recognised his voice immediately. “I was wondering when you’d call.”

“What are you up to?” He questioned her.

“Obviously at home, or I wouldn’t have said your name out loud.” She said in a bored tone. “And you?”

“Waiting on a case.” He responded. “I want to see you again.”

“How much are you going to pay me?”

“Are you going to keep bringing that up?” He asked her.

“Won’t let you forget it.” He could practically hear the smirk in her voice.

“Fine. I’ll pay you if you really want. When are you free?”

“You know, I just got freed up this afternoon.” She said light-heartedly.

Someone walked through the door on Zsasz’s side and she heard a gunshot and a heavy thud before Zsasz got back on the phone.

“So did I.” He added.

“Where should I meet you?”

He listed the name of an obscure street and said his goodbyes before hanging up.

* * *

Zsasz was propped up against the side of a crumbling grey building, staring at the road with his jaw set. A taxi pulled up on the desolate road and she swung her legs out, tottering onto the pavement. She had made an effort again, her hair carefully set and makeup covering the healing wounds still marring her cheek.

She looked at the decrepit buildings in disgust as she headed towards him.

“You’ve brought me to a demolition site?” She said, her lips upturned. “You’d better be paying me for this, the cab driver didn’t even know where we were going, we went in circles until he accidentally turned off the right road. You should have seen how long the meter was running when we-”

“Come on.” Zsasz interrupted her, pushing himself off the wall and heading behind the building.

She stared back at the empty road then followed after him, but only after huffing loudly. She stumbled on the uneven pavement, swearing as it jarred her ankle but somehow she managed to keep up with him and followed him through a small, dirty door in the side of one of the crumbling buildings. It led to a small room lit with strobe lighting where a few tables and chairs were scattered across the dirty floor.

“Why on earth have you taken me here?”

He didn’t respond, he merely meandered over to one of the chairs, screeching it back on the cement floor before sitting down, placing his hands flat on the table in front of him.

“And how many women have seen this place?” She asked idly, trying to see whether she could view more of the building through the only other door in the room, but there was only darkness.

“Relax. I only bring women back here if they’re particularly charming.”

She looked to him, a grin playing on her lips as he used her own phrase against her. She approached him, pulling up the chair opposite him and sitting herself across the table from him.

“What do you want me to do and how much are you going to pay me?” She enquired.

“Really? You’re going to insist I pay you?” He asked, his voice low and unamused.

“At least pay the taxi fee. And, I mean, I could be working right now.” She added, shrugging her shoulders.

“Right. Since you’re so desperate.” He reached into his inner pocket, counting out notes before sliding them across the table towards her.

She picked the notes up and counted them out herself, arching her eyebrow as she slipped the money into her own pocket.

“You have me for several hours. To do with as you wish.” She extended her hands welcomingly.

A mad look entered his eyes and he reached under the table to take out his handgun. He placed it on the table gently, watching her reaction evenly. She looked immediately uncomfortable at the presence of the weapon. She was expecting something kinky in such a grotty place away from people, but she wasn’t willing to play with firearms.

“I don’t do fucked up shit.” She expressed quickly, pointing at the gun.

“That’s not what I’m after.” He enunciated clearly, pointing at the gun. “One bullet.”

Her eyes suddenly lit up with the same crazy look that Zsasz had, all of the fear and uncertainty gone in a second.

“Are you proposing a game of Russian Roulette?” She arched her eyebrow.

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

He picked up the gun himself, playing with it in his hands before levelling it at her head.

“I’ll go first.” He said spontaneously, pulling the trigger.

She flinched terribly but there was only the clicking of the gun echoing through the room, no explosion. Her face was stormy as she snatched the gun off of him, pointing it at his head this time.

“Ask a girl before you go to shoot her.” She spoke pointedly before sharply pulling the trigger. Again, no explosion.

She handed the gun over reluctantly, dropping it into his palm and he pointed it at her forehead.

“How many chambers are in this?” She asked before he shot.

He pulled the trigger, the mechanism clicking harmlessly, then he handed the gun back to her.

“Six.” He responded shortly.

She pointed the gun at his head, pulling the trigger yet again and handed it back to him. Every time they swapped it became more like a game, the likelihood of either of them being shot getting higher and higher until they had clicked through five barrels and she was pointing the gun at Zsasz’s head. They both knew that the bullet had to be in this chamber. The tension in the room was palpable as she lifted the gun to his forehead, willing her hands to be as steady as his were when she was pointing a live firearm that close to someone’s head.

They locked eyes, her heart rate elevating as her finger tightened around the trigger. She’d be the last thing he’d ever see.

But he had initiated the game and pride would never let her back down so, after inhaling deeply through her nostrils, she pulled the trigger. She expected his head to snap back, blood exploding from the bullet wound in his forehead and she’d have to leave alone and even more empty than she was before.

What happened, however, was quite the opposite. She pulled the trigger and the chamber clicked but no bullet shot out. Mixed emotions crossed her face and she slowly lowered the gun, still staring at Zsasz.

“You take your Russian Roulette very seriously.” Zsasz was the first to speak, rocking back in his chair.

She opened the chamber of the gun, seeing that there were six barrels but no bullets loaded whatsoever.

“And you obviously don’t.” She snapped, throwing the gun onto the table with a clatter.

“You would’ve shot me.” Zsasz commented, arching his eyebrow.

He wasn’t betraying any emotion and she couldn’t tell whether he was impressed with her or disappointed that she’d be willing to kill him, just like that.

“You’re the one who wanted to play.” She pouted, angling her body away from him.

“You seem annoyed. Did you want me to die?” Zsasz questioned her, something related to innocence playing in his eyes.

“No.” She shifted uncomfortably, inspecting the grimy surface of the table. “You shouldn't have lied to me.”

“But then it wouldn’t have been a game.” He retorted.

“So you brought me to some dump to play a fake game of Russian Roulette?” She spoke indignantly, rising to her feet.

He merely watched, he didn’t rise with her and he didn’t make any objection.

“Is there anything else you want?” She asked him pointedly, her hand on the door handle.

“I did pay for your time.”

She sighed in exasperation.

“Yes, you did. So what do you want?” She let her hand fall off the handle as she turned back towards him.

“Come here.” He uttered softly, lifting a single hand from the table to beckon her towards him with a finger.

She hesitated before approaching him and he expectantly pulled his chair back, the legs screeching across the floor, exposing his lower body as he did so. She stood by his side, lingering awkwardly until he gestured at his lap, inviting her onto it. She stared at him in disbelief, her eyes wide and unblinking as she looked between his face and his lap.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He said clearly.

She could feel his money weighing her pocket down and she felt obligated to do as he said, just as she did with all her other clients. But the clients she usually had she patronized and pampered and gushed over. She couldn’t very well do that to Zsasz, so she wasn’t quite sure where she stood.

She lowered herself onto his lap, angling herself as far away from his crotch as she could, using her new height to look down on him in a seductive manner. If he was going to pay her, there were worse men she could be stuck with.

He impulsively grabbed her waist and pulled her closer while she flinched, then immediately relaxed as if reminding herself of her purpose. He looked up at her, eyes narrowing as he tried to assess her reaction.

“Would you call me charming?” He asked abruptly.

She let out a short burst of laughter, looking to the ceiling as she grinned.

“That’s the absolute last thing I’d call you.” She could feel his hands slipping from her waist but she stopped him, holding her own hands over them and placing them back on her waist. “But I’d kiss you.”

“I thought you only kissed charming people.”

“Some men have more than just charm.” She muttered, curling her fingers into his waistcoat.

She brought her face obscenely close to his, so close that they were sharing the same heady air. She was fully aware that she was going to kiss him of her own volition now, he hadn’t asked her, but somehow she was okay with that as their lips collided in a swift motion. He kissed her back eagerly, his hands lifting from her waist to the back of her neck, lifting towards her in his chair so their chests pressed together.

Their mouths parted, the kiss becoming infused with passion and her hands traveled down his chest to start to work on the buttons of his waistcoat. He stilled her hands, lowering them onto her own lap as he parted from her lips.

She looked to him, breathing heavily with confusion marring her features.

“No.” He dictated.

“But I thought-” She started but he cut her off with a firm hand motion, urging her to stand. She did so and he followed her so they were facing off one another, his fist clenching at his side while she looked puzzled and vaguely hurt. 

"Fine. Then I'll go."

He merely stared at her, but didn't object as she moved towards the door again. Her hand lingered on the handle, waiting for him, but as he didn't say anything she sighed and pushed through the door.

* * *

The next day, Zsasz watched her come through the door of the club. He had been waiting since eight only for her to waltz in at eleven when the place was practically empty. She slid into the seat beside him, ordering a drink from the tired barmaid, tipping it back before Zsasz could even glance at her.

"What happened yesterday?" She asked him tightly.

He gritted his teeth and stared at the bar.

"I thought you wanted... me. You _paid_  me. You made me believe..."

She trailed off, angrily tapping the now-empty glass with her long nails.

"Zsasz, I've never met a man who's known my profession and not freaked out about it. And then you come in, and treat me like shit, just like all the other men I have to deal with!" Her voice was becoming shrill and she seemed very close to throwing the damned glass at the wall just to watch it shatter.

"Do you always get this angry about sex?" Zsasz asked dully, not affected by her rising temper.

She laughed harshly, then glared at him with her lips pursed.

"It's not just sex." She spat, crossing her arms. "I won't expect you to understand."

He had been almost silent throughout this entire encounter, but she only noticed this while she wasn't speaking herself. She glanced between him and the bar furtively, waiting for him to respond. When he didn't, her temper rose again.

"Oh, and here. I don't want this any more." She slid the notes he gave her yesterday across the bar. "Seeing as we didn't _do_  anything."

He stiffly reached out, picked up the notes and put them into his jacket pocket.

"Why don't you want me?" Her anger was subsiding and on the last few words her voice cracked.

He winced, glaring at the bar with his jaw firmly set. He was seriously considering just getting up and leaving, but she had been weighing heavily on his mind and he felt she deserved at least the barest of explanations.

"I can't get tangled up with women like you." He said softly, his eyes lowered and staring at the bar.

" _Women like me_?" She repeated in disbelief. "What are you trying to insinuate?!"

He shifted on his stool, his features looking as close to uncomfortable as they possibly could. His lips pursed and he hesitated before giving her a pointed look, making an effort to look into her eyes.

"Women who I find attractive." He muttered, this voice barely loud enough to be heard over the murmur of the rest of the room.

Her stomach tightened and her hand clenched unconsciously around her empty glass. Despite the work that she was in and the amount of years she'd been doing it, she felt her face flushing. As her cheeks heated, she was even more embarrassed at the fact that she we blushing and her face flushed even more. She didn't know why Zsasz giving her a compliment was affecting her more than the tens of other men that had said far more crude and complimentary things in the past few weeks.

She broke her gaze from his and he let a smile creep at the corners of his mouth. He hadn't lied, and her playing coy now wasn't doing anything to help his effort to avoid her.

"For the record, I fucking hate you." She mumbled before tugging at the collar of his shirt. "Come with me."

She couldn't see the smirk on his lips as he lifted himself off his own barstool and trailed after her short, angry footsteps. He noticed her wearing ridiculously high heels again, her limp hardly noticeable so he assumed that she had healed up nicely, even if she hadn't got rid of that bastard of a 'boyfriend'.

They went out into the parking lot and she got into her car, beckoning him to get in too. He examined the surroundings before getting in beside her, his long legs folding into the front seat. She pulled out of the car park and started driving. He tried to guess where they were going from just their surroundings, but as things grew more and more foreign to him he was driven to ask.

"Where are we we going?" He asked, trying to sound disinterested.

"We're going to my place."

She pulled up in front of a decent set of flats and parked the car. They both got out and she buzzed her way in, him following after her through the hallway and into the lift. They endured the ride up in tense silence, until they got to her floor and she got out her keys to open the door to her flat.

Zsasz was pleasantly surprised by her surroundings. From the jobs she held and the company she kept she could easily have lived like a cheap whore. But her apartment was light and airy, the white walls and minimalist decorating more of an illusion of wealth rather than the real deal, but it was still pleasant.

"Why'd you bring me here?" He asked as she threw her keys onto the counter.

"To show you that you don't have to get 'entangled' with someone like me." She said bitingly over her shoulder.

The living area opened up into a kitchen which she meandered into, opening up a cupboard to pull down two wine glasses which she set on the counter. She pulled out a bottle and held it out to Zsasz as if she were an overpaid waitress trying to sell the client the most expensive wine on offer. He shrugged and she uncorked the bottle, pouring out two glasses which she picked up and set down in the living room.

She gestured at him to sit and he did so, his dark suit making him look like an oil slick on the white surface of the sofa. She sat beside him, kicking off her heels and tucking her feet under herself. She nursed her glass in her hands, taking a sip before turning to Zsasz.

"Aren't you drinking?" She asked him teasingly.

"Is that your plan?" He asked, giving her a sideways glance. "Getting me drunk enough to sleep with you?"

Despite his disapproving tone, he still picked up his glass and drank.

"If I were to trick you, I'd be far more clever about it." She assured him.

They sat, staring at an abstract painting which hung opposite the sofa. He noticed that there was only one door leading off from the living room. That must be her bedroom.

"So what's this about getting 'entangled'?" She raised her eyebrow at him and he hazarded a look at her.

He debated responding, but the wide-eyed, questioning look she was giving drove him to answer.

"It's dangerous for me to fall in love." He said through gritted teeth. "Any weakness someone could hold over me. It's not safe."

"You think I don't know the dangers of this work?" She said sullenly into her glass.

He had to remind himself that she was an assassin too, when she was out of the dress and the heels and the makeup. She was the same as him.

"But you don't have to worry about falling for me."

"Oh no?" He asked, wrapping his arm around the back of the sofa.

"No. You already know what I feel for you." She said, miming a gun at his head with her fingers.

"Yes, yes." He batted her hand away.

"Come on then." She shuffled closer to him, her shoulder now nestled under the crook of his arm.

He looked down at her, sadness playing in his eyes before he sighed ever so softly. He took his glass along with hers and set them down onto the table before sitting back again, even closer to her than before. His eyes softened and he reached forward to gently touch her cheek.

With lightning reflexes her hand was at his neck and the blade in her palm glinted in the light. He leaned away from the blade, his shoulders rolling back and his neck elongating. But with reflexes of his own, he grabbed the knife from her hand and had it flush against the exposed skin of her neck. She grinned madly, even as he lifted the knife from her neck and flicked it across the room.

"Where do you keep that one?" He asked slyly.

"A lady never says where she keeps her secret weapon." She winked and he grabbed her chin impulsively.

Her heart pounded with anticipation as they leaned in towards each other, their lips almost touching when there was an abrupt knock on the door. Both of them froze, heads snapping towards the door. They stayed as silent as possible, muscles tensed as they tried to distinguish whether the knock came from her apartment or not. Then the sound of keys in the lock.

"I gave him a key." She spoke in a rushed undertone.

"What?" He muttered.

"Bedroom." She said shortly as the key twisted in the lock.

He didn't need to be told twice, he was up in a shot, his long legs striding across the apartment. He just managed to slip behind her bedroom door as the front door opened behind him.

The room was exactly what he expected it to be. It was a bedroom with a walk-in wardrobe off on one side and another door on the other side. He could hear voices coming from the living room and risked a peek into the other door. It was a bathroom.

He weighed up his hiding spaces. It was far less likely for either of them to randomly walk into the wardrobe, but as he peered inside there was barely enough room to fit his entire body. Their voices rose and he made a rushed decision, opening the wardrobe door wider so he could crawl inside, his legs scrunched in front of him and he had to attempt to close the door twice in order for it to shut properly.

Meanwhile, she lay back on the couch in a relaxed manner as her 'boyfriend', the man with all the rings and abusive tendencies, rounded the corner. He grinned, grabbing her hand, pulling her upwards in order to kiss her. She giggled, putting on her coy persona with the new man in her presence.

"You weren't busy, were you?" He asked presumptuously, looking around her apartment.

"No." She smiled, then noticed his eyes fix on the two wine glasses on her table and her smile faltered.

"Who else do you have in here?" He asked, his voice teasing but she could sense the sharp edge hidden underneath the sweet tone.

"I was expecting you." She raised her eyebrow at him as she picked up the second glass, hoping he fell for it.

He hesitated before smiling himself, taking the glass from her hand. He didn't notice the marks on the side of the glass indicating that it had already been drunk from, much to her relief.

"How very prepared of you." He commented, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her down onto the sofa with him.

He alternated between kissing her and consuming alcohol. His hands were wandering and his kisses were heated; she knew this mood he was in and needed to get out of it, quickly. She couldn't have sex with him while Zsasz was in her apartment. She couldn't even consider it.

"You picked a really bad time, darling. I have to go out now." She lied, attempting to get up from his lap.

She had to hope that he'd leave with her. And if he didn't, then she trusted Zsasz could look after himself, maybe stay quiet enough until he decided to leave. But he didn't even let her get that far.

"C'mon, surely you have five minutes." He pulled her back down and she struggled.

"I have to meet with someone." She said through a fake smile, inwardly panicking at how tightly his arm was wrapping around her waist.

"No you don't."

There was something infinitely more threatening about the normality of his voice than if he actually had shouted at her. His calm tone was beginning to scare her, a feat not easily accomplished, and as he stood up with that vice-like grip still around her waist she reached for her knife. Her heart froze as she realized it wasn't hidden in her waistband any more, then remembered that Zsasz had thrown it across the room after she'd held it to his neck. Her eyes frantically searched the floor as he began to drag her towards the bedroom, but she couldn't see it anywhere.

She closed her eyes as they passed into her bedroom, not wanting to face the reality of an assassin crouching in the corner of her room. But when the man hanging onto her didn't exclaim as he walked into the room, she opened her eyes only to find it empty. That meant that he was either in her bathroom, wardrobe or out of the window. Seeing as she was on the fifth floor, the last option was unlikely, but she wouldn't put it past Zsasz. She had a sneaking suspicion that he was in the wardrobe thanks to the fabric of one of her dresses spilling across the floor under the wardrobe door.

He watched them through the slats in the wardrobe door. It gave him a poor view, but even he could see her struggling to look under control as her boyfriend dragged her into the room and threw her onto the bed. Her head snapped back and she bounced slightly as she landed on the soft covers of her duvet. She tried to get up again but he put his heavy hands on her shoulders, shoving her back down as he crawled on top of her.

Zsasz looked back into the darkness of the wardrobe, her clothes brushing his cheek as he attempted to comprehend the situation he was in. It all felt like something from a bad sitcom; he couldn't feel more perverted than staring at her through a _wardrobe_ with another man in top of her. His hand clenched into a fist at his side and he could feel his confusion manifesting itself as anger. Had she done this on purpose? Orchestrated it all just to see whether he got jealous, or to see how he'd respond in this sort of situation? He resolved to wait until she gave him a sign.

She could feel Zsasz's stare boring into her side as the man kissed her neck. She could feel herself blushing, but it wasn't from the heated kisses, instead it was embarrassment from feeling so powerless. She hadn't felt so helpless in a long time, and of course it had to be in front of a man she wanted to impress.

"Get the fuck off of me." She muttered in a harsh undertone, only loud enough for the man on top of her to hear. 

He smiled in response, a scary, hard-edged smile as he started to unbutton her blouse, his fingers not working fast enough on the last few buttons so he ended up ripping them off, some of them falling the the floor and rolling under the furniture. Her bra exposed, it was only now she was feeling violated. Sure, she had been manhandled before, but never sexually. She'd kill a man before he even had the time to think about it.

With his hands on her shirt and only his thighs pinning her down, she attempted a swipe at his head, but he caught her fist in the air. She was good, but he was just as good, if not better. He truly had the best of her. She slumped back on the bed, defeated, when there was the sound of an explosion and the man pinning her down jerked once before collapsing on top of her, lifeless.

The loud sound made her heart drop in her chest and it took her a couple of moments for her brain to catch up with what happened. When it finally did, she shoved the limp man off of her and abruptly sat up. She looked over to see Zsasz standing with a gun pointing at her, the tip smoking and the wardrobe door standing ajar. She looked back at the catatonic man, only just noticing the hole in his head and the crimson blood stain blooming across her white sheets.

"I had it under control." She said through gritted teeth, standing up slowly.

Zsasz holstered the gun inside his jacket, silent and using slow movements as if he didn't want to startle her. She could feel anger bubbling in the pit of her stomach, though whether from embarrassment or genuine anger she couldn't tell.

"He hadn't even signed the papers yet." She snarled, eyes flashing. "All of that fucking preening, pampering, all for nothing! The amount of times I let him touch me. Do you even know-"

Zsasz stalked forward, cutting her off with a harsh kiss. Their lips brushed together and she startled backwards, her eyes wide. The kiss was chaste and when Zsasz pulled back she wound up and slapped him harshly across the cheek.

The sick sound of flesh on flesh rang through the room and they stared at one another, fire in his eyes and her breathing harsh. His face smarted from the blow and her hand tingled from the contact. Then in one fluid movement their lips were on one another's, her fingers driving into his suit and his hands pawing at her hips.

He steadily pushed his weight against her until she started backing up, her back slamming into the wall, exerting his dominance. She had to retaliate in some way, her hands pushing at his jacket until it fell onto the floor with a soft thud. He growled, his hands creeping under the shirt that the vile man had already torn off of her. She responded with relish, her shaking hands pulling at his waistcoat buttons until that, too, was on the floor. She barely had time to consider the irony of fucking in a room with a dead man.

It was only when she started unbuttoning his shirt that he stilled her hands, his lips leaving hers for the barest of moments.

"What's the matter?" She asked, their noses brushing together.

She attempted to pull at the buttons again, and he let her, after the slightest hesitation. She pushed his shirt back to reveal his alabaster skin, the pale expanse of chest starkly contrasting the neat and even rows of tally marks etched onto his skin starting to encroach on his collar-bone, the rest of them disappearing into his sleeve. She suddenly understood his hesitation.

"Hey, we all have scars." She spoke softly.

She shrugged off what remained of her shirt to reveal her torso pitted and marred with thin white lines, some deeper than others.

"Where'd you get yours?" He asked, his eyes not leaving her newly exposed skin.

"Not telling. Yours?"

He shook his head.

"Then we're even."

He shrugged, his hands exploring her torso and wrapping around her back, his long fingers making quick work of her bra. She let her breath escape along with her bra as he dragged it off her body, throwing it onto the floor uselessly. He took her breasts in his hands, her heart racing and her mind fogging as her whole upper body clenched in anticipation. He tweaked one of her nipples and she gasped reflexively before giggling.

While his hands were otherwise occupied, she worked at his belt, then unzipped his fly so she could palm his semi-erect member through his boxers. A throaty growl came from the back of his throat and he removed his hands, instead choosing to tear her skirt off.

In the brief few seconds she had before his hands were on her again she managed to pull his shirt off, revealing the remainder of the tally marks scarring the length of both arms. She marvelled at them, her hands running over the tiny bumps marring his skin, the feeling of fresh pain coursing through her. There was no doubt he had done this to himself. And there was something incredibly sexy about that.

He pulled out one of the knives secreted in his waistband and held it between them, both if their eyes fixed on the small blade. He ran it down between her breasts, along her stomach, her muscles contracting beneath the sharp object. He let it linger at the waistband of her underwear before sliding it under and in two sharp flicks it was nothing but a scrap of fabric on the floor.

She stood there, gasping and completely naked as he appraised her figure. His eyes were wide and mad, but somehow she felt safer with him than any other man she'd been with.

He wrapped the arm holding the blade around her, kissing her harshly before jabbing it into her lower back. Her hips jerked reflexively into him and he smirked while she gave him a look of indignation, attempting to push back at him. But he kept her pinned between him and the wall, his body an immovable barrier in her attempt to gain some element of control.

He kissed her again, one hand pushing roughly at her shoulder while the other worked to free his cock. He positioned himself at her entrance and she writhed against the wall, her face flushing with excitement. He made firm eye contact with her before he abruptly thrust into her and her mouth fell open, emitting nothing other than a choked gasp.

He moved inside her and she felt almost dizzy, euphoric as he started to thrust. She could see stars and she gripped his shoulders so tightly that some of the newer scars split beneath her fingernails, blood oozing around them, the pain only turning him further.

He kept the blade against her back as he fucked her, a constant reminder of the balance, where she stood in this encounter. Every now and then she'd forget and the knife would drive into her back, making her give a little pained gasp which he would smother with a kiss. She lifted a leg and hooked it around his thrusting hips, giving him easier access and encouraging his motions.

She could tell he was close to the edge as he got more vocal, giving in to his deep groans and grunts which gave her goose bumps on the back of her neck. She bit her lip, tightening around him, which only made him thrust harder, driving her closer to the edge.

He dropped the knife to the floor and pinned her wrists to the wall, their bodies flush as he gave way to his orgasm. Feeling the broad man twitch and buck against her pushed her over the edge and she came too, her vision blurring and muscles weakening as she orgasmed.

He was the only thing keeping her up as her body slumped, his hands still on her wrists and face buried in her neck, his breathing harsh against her ear. He eventually let her go, turning from her and doing his trousers back up while she struggled to keep upright, her breaths still short and her knees trembling.

She slumped towards the bed and lay across the foot of it, avoiding the dead man and the damp blood stain surrounding him. She looked over to Zsasz who had put his shirt back on, but the scars she had split on his shoulders were spotting the white fabric with blood.

"Sorry about that." She smirked as he turned towards her.

He responded by leaning over and kissing her with the same passion he had during sex, his hand snaking under her back and pulling her up slightly. When he let her go, he lifted his hand to her face. His fingertips were smeared with blood.

"Don't apologize until you've seen yourself." He warned her before sucking the blood off his fingers idly.

It was only after she'd seen the evidence that her back started to twinge with pain and she sat up to stop the friction from the bed sheets irritating her wounds even more. He looked down at her with a smirk while he buttoned up his jacket. Seeing his eyes on her still naked body she hastily pulled the corner of the sheets over herself in an attempt of modesty.

He came and sat beside her on the bed, the mattress dipping as he adjusted his cuffs.

"No love." He told her while staring at the floor.

"No love." She repeated, a smile resembling more of a wince crossing her features.

"But I want to see you again."

"You know where I live." She joked, gesturing to her room.

The corner of his mouth twitched and he anxiously ran his hands down his thighs.

"I could get you some jobs." He mentioned. "I can't promise you won't run into men like that-"

He jabbed a thumb towards the dead-eyed man still on her bed. She looked to him too, a grimace contorting her face.

"-but you wouldn't have to kiss them."

"You could do that?" She asked softly.

"If you stop whoring yourself out." His head jerked and his jaw clenched.

"Careful, Zsasz, that's sounding an awful lot like jealously." She teased him.

"I'm merely looking after your well-being." He responded, surprisingly earnest.

"I can look after myself." She said without thinking, then went to correct herself. "But thank you."

They looked at one another, a deep understanding rooted between them as Zsasz picked up her chin and kissed her softly.

"I'll see you again." He promised her before getting up, adjusting his suit before stalking out of the room.

She watched him leave her room and shortly after she heard her front door being opened and closed. She looked to herself, then to the bled-out man on her bed. Well, at least she was promised a commission soon. Otherwise how else would she replace the bloody mattress?


End file.
